Place For Me
by Bookman230
Summary: Now, there were no orders. No superiors. Nothing. His life, for the first time, was… his own. This wretched, hollow shell of a life. There was no place for him there, there in that perfect world he had fought for. There was no place for him here, either.


Serenity. Wasn't that the most ironic word? It was the battle of Serenity Valley that had doomed the captain to restlessness for so long. And now, Serenity was the ship that had left the Operative adrift. Devoid of peace. It was like proving to a Shepherd that there was no God. No, worse. It was convincing a Shepherd there was a God, and that He was evil. That He had never deserved your devotion, your worship, your faith. That everything you had done in His name… was in service of a being worse than the devil, benevolence and utopia nothing but excuses. Nothing but lies. It would be to learn that horrific deeds such as the Flood or the destruction of Sodom were not necessary, nothing but posturings of an arrogant king. The one thing you had believed in... had never deserved that belief. And what was a man, without belief? No man at all. He was sheep. Cattle.

But then, who was he to call another sheep, after the orders he's carried out? And now, there were no orders. No superiors. Nothing. His life, for the first time, was… his own. This wretched, hollow shell of a life. There was no place for him there, there in that perfect world he had fought for.

There was no place for him here, either.

He was a killer. A demon. A monster. And there was no place for a monster among men. He closed his eyes, and listened beyond the stillness in his apartment. To the nearby occupants. To the sounds of the people below. He had killed people like them. He had, in all likelihood, taken people from them. All for nothing. Worse than nothing. The prickling of guilt settled in his stomach, more a curiosity than anything else. It had been so long since he had felt that. He did not know if he had ever felt it before. Instead, it is shame that courses through him. And more than that, a great, black emptiness. And then…

The rushing noise of a ship soaring past. A sound that reverberated through his entire body. A sound that just might provide… an answer. If there were not a place for a monster among men… then perhaps there was one among the Black.

* * *

The ship-seller was predictably eager to help him, after the large amount of money he had shown to him. He was launching into his sell routine, trying to get him to buy the largest, most expensive ship. After all, he could afford it.

"Now you see, this ship is the best of its class. Honestly, it may be the best ship, period. Its engines have almost as much power as an Alliance flagship, and that's no lie, no siree, I-"

The Operative ignored his posturings and put his focus on the ships. He had been on more than his share, and a cursory glance would reveal most of what he needed to know. The Bernard was a reliable, sturdy, but. It held a bit too much memories as of late. The Glory was a fine ship- when it worked properly. It required too large a crew to properly maintain. The Thunderbird was adaptable, agile, strong. But even that failed to entice him. For some reason, it felt too… small.

He began to wonder if this was a doomed endeavor. A ship had brought peace to Malcolm Reynolds, yes. But for all their similarities, they were different men. Malcolm had proven that. What were the chances of anything giving him purpose again? He thought of returning to his apartment when… he saw it. Her.

A Firefly. Of course. Isn't life ironic? He had never fallen in love. It had never interested him, even before his occupation. But if he had… surely it felt something like this. There she stood. Worn, battle scarred, empty. But… still here. Waiting for a purpose to fill her. Waiting for a crew.

"Mr. Shadow?"

He paid the man no mind as he walked towards her. He stepped inside, and it was as if the world shifted. As if he was Noah, stepping into his Ark. Here was salvation. Here was purpose. He laid a hand on her hull, closed his eyes, and felt her beneath his fingers. If he waited long enough, it felt like he was melting into her. It felt like the Black flowed between them. Two old souls with nothing left but the Black inside of them.

"Mr. Shadow? Uh, this one's kind of junk, I assure you, I've got much better-"

"I'll take her," he said, with certainty. More certainty than he had felt for some time. He smiled. "If she will have me, of course."

"Are… are you sure? I've got this fine ship-"

"Positive, thank you. Please. Draw up the required papers." The man slumped off, obviously displeased at the lower profit he had made, but the Operative could not bring himself to care. He could not bring himself to care about anything. Anything but this ship. Still going. Ready to fly. A ship that had endured so much, that allowed a man to find his own freedom, his own world, his own… utopia. His own place. Yes. That was deserving of faith. Of devotion.

"Hello, Miranda."


End file.
